


Time

by Tenchi



Category: Glee
Genre: Buffyverse Slayer, M/M, Minor Character Death, Twilightverse Vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-26 22:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenchi/pseuds/Tenchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Born in Lima during the 1950's, a changed Kurt returns to the small town nearly 60 years later in search of an end. The Slayers in the New Directions are only happy to oblige, especially Puck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome Back

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this story last year, over a couple of hours without really planning the road or motivations of the characters. After a break, I returned and gave it a face lift. Nothing major, just a few touch-ups. I hope you enjoy it. I already have the other chapters done and planned the ending. 
> 
> Feedback would be appreciated.

Puck first saw him navigating the edge of Lima, walking the roadside in tight black jeans, white Doc Marten boots, and an ivory wool sweater that belonged on a Vanity Fair cover model. The boy treaded the night with a gentle confidence, the type that reminded Puck of someone he use to know. This sliver of otherness was enough to confuse him, to rattle him out of the mindset he usually reserved for anything seemingly suspicious.

He's beautiful, Puck thought.

With pearl white skin and hair too fucking hard to imitate without looking gay, the boy was a roadside ghost, far too comfortable in the dark for Puck's liking. Dissonance twisted a knot in Puck's stomach. Never in his fucking life had he encountered another guy, supernatural or regular flavor, that qualified as beautiful in his eyes.

Except for Quinn Fabray, even the girls in the New Directions failed to come close to pretty. One was a prude. Another a raging bitch. The blonde one was easy. The Asian one was in love. The one who could keep up had dumped him and left the group.

Yet even without their quirks or shitty attitude, they were nothing next to Fabray. The comforting thought had already been proven unhealthy in a brief visit to a grief counselor a few months after Quinn's death. It wasn't fair to measure the worth of the living, exhaling people with the stiff, nearly-always-perfect dead. But it was expected and Puck kept her image tucked next to other precious memories that made sleeping during the day easier, the nightly patrols feel a little safer.

The town of Lima was seeing a record low in "spontaneous blood leaks" this year, thanks to the work of the McKinley glee club. Everyone in the group did their part to keep the quiet town bloodbath-free, without recognition besides the occasional "Oh my god what the fuck was that" by rescued innocents. The few who weren't Slayers found alternative ways to help their teammates fight demonic forces. 

Tina now swam deep into the magiks pool for reasons that Puck managed to find strangely hot. Swearing to never become a liability to Mike during nightly patrols, Tina's knowledge of the magiks now put her somewhere above a Slayer, power-wise. If one of them got torn to the point that a Slayer's healing factor wasn't enough or a powerful demon refused to do right and die, a cell phone call to Tina would usually end their worries with a spell or lightning bolt.

I can probably take her on, Puck often thought to himself.

Ever since the phrase "Slayer's will lead brief brutal lives" left Berry's glossed lips, pride swelled in how he served the small town. Living beyond 25 or 30 was never a future he looked forward to. Being a slayer endowed him with superhuman strength, senses, and an intense life that suited him like a fine leather boot. There was a peace of mind that he use to only find on the football field or fixing his truck on a Saturday morning. 

With Quinn gone and the possibility of harming Beth by being around, a short life being extraordinary was the fucking jackpot. He'd even managed to luck out of having crap inducing prophetic dreams, unlike the estrogen-powered half of the glee club. 

Win-win.

The red Jeep Comanche came to a halt in the road. No androgynous stranger was about to break the peace they had worked hard to establish in Lima. Had it been Quinn driving, she would've steamed rolled over the stranger and asked questions later, Puck thought. Checking his rearview mirror for the silhouette of the stranger, Puck found the first of many signs to come.

Besides the empty road's reflection, there was no image belonging to the stranger, not even a Scooby Doo-esque ghostly outline. "Knew it," he murmured under his breath. Vampire .

Puck craned his neck around and saw the boy walking towards the truck, his face shrouded under the cover of night. Puck could hear the soft crunching of gravel under the white boots but the distinct lack of a heart beat made him clench his fists. Sign number two.

Puck fingered the tip of the silver stake that was poking out of his jacket sleeve. There would be no effort in stabbing the vampire when the time came. Another glance to the road caught Puck by surprise. The boy was already by the foot of the truck, eyes casually glancing at the interior of the truck bed. 

Seeing the boy's face up close was the game changer that paused Puck's chest. The vampire wasn't just pretty; he was gorgeous.  
Carefully coifed brown hair rested on his head, paired with light eyes that could've been described as "kind" by Puck if he had been a more ignorant man. There was no room for scars on the boy's groomed and angular face, only a perfectly shaped nose and lips. 

Before Puck could will his body to open the truck door, the young man was next to it, gently tapping the window with a pale index finger. Puck stared back at the young man, dumbstruck. Stab the ghostly skank, his conscience screamed, stab him through the window! 

"Hey," Puck said as he rolled down the driver's window  
"Hi," the young man said, a small smile on his lips.  
Fake smile is fake, his conscience commented.  
"I've never done this before but I'm looking to get a ride to Lima," the young man said. "33rd and Van Ness, specifically. I know hitchhikers get a bad rep but if I walk another mile in these boots, they will be bloody red by the time I get to my house." 

A part of Puck bought the excuse and naiveté oozing out of the young man. It had already ignored his slayer instincts and obvious signs. Hell, it was already bulldozing over the fact that the hitchhiker had a dick. Maybe. "Is that all you want?" Puck said absentmindedly, fighting the reflexive smirk that would spread across his face whenever the possibility of sex appeared. A second later the shock of what he had said hit him.  
The young man took a step back, uneasy. "That was...yes that's all I want."  
"Oh god, sorry," Puck said, "I didn't mean you were some roadside floozy or vampire-"  
"Excuse me?" the boy asked.  
Puck squirmed. He was being killed in the most humiliating way possible.  
Conversing with a vampire was definitely something he had never experienced.  
Tackling, staking them in the heart, and wiping off the dust from his letterman jacket was the preferred form of communication.  
"You know, the slutty temptress kind? 'I love Lucy'...vamps?"  
The young man shifted on the spot. "No."  
Rather than wait for awkward silence to prematurely kill him, Puck unlocked the door to the passenger seat. "It's a bit dirty inside but I'll take you home," he said, slipping the silver stake into his sleeve. "No offense but you seem like a delicate guy. Wouldn't want you to find something out here you couldn't handle."

\------------------------

The thirty minute drive to the heart of Lima was stone quiet, occasionally broken by the rattle of the truck's transmission. The young man broke the silence. "Thinking of replacing you're tranny?"

"My what?" Puck shot back. "You're transmission, " the young man said. "Its been rattling the whole drive and the fact that you're driving 45 miles an hour on a 65 mile road tells me you couldn't outrun the cops if you had to." Noah eye's opened wide at the sentence, causing the young man to blush. "My dad was a grease monkey with an auto shop in Lima." Beautiful and knows cars, Puck thought. "Yeah, I've been meaning...to get it changed." Shooting a smile at the young man, his breathing quickened when the smile was warmly returned.

"Name's Puck by the way," he said, offering a hand to the stranger. "Kurt," the young man replied, his smaller hand shaking Puck's.

Cold to the touch, Puck resisted the urge to clench his jaw. Sign number three, he thought. In the blurry seconds it would've taken Puck to stake the young man, Kurt pointed to a distant house outside the driver's window. "I'm good here," Kurt said, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the passenger door of the speeding truck.

"Wait-," was all Puck was able to yell out as Kurt hopped out. The young man noisily landed on his feet, the black concrete of the suburban neighborhood cracking under the pressure of his landing. Hitting the brakes for the second time tonight, Puck stormed out of his truck, the build-up of hesitations and doubts clogging his mind now draining away. "Strike number four, bastard," Puck murmured, sliding the stake out of the sleeve of his jacket.

Kurt remained motionless as he stared at Puck advancing; an awkward marble statue in the middle of the road. The glow of an approaching car's headlights behind Puck broke the Slayer's concentration, causing him to glance back in precaution. Before Puck could return his attention to Kurt, instinct told him that the vampire was gone. "Fuckthisheartmolestingskank," Puck muttered, aching to stomp the black out of the concrete where Kurt had stood.

A woman wearing a yellow bee suit slowly drove by in her black mustang, wondering why a cursing teenager was standing in the middle of the street at 2 a.m. Thank god she was leaving all the weirdness in Lima.


	2. Captain Fuck-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new/old chapter. Have fun.

"All right guys," Mr. Schue said with a clap, "before we end today's session I want to get a message across." Puck couldn't help but let out an echoing groan. "Now that sectional's are over the odds of us performing in New York in front of hundreds has doubled." The remark drew a hamster-like squeal from Rachel. "Even if we don't win nationals, earning a spot in the competition will show the school that Glee Club is a worthwhile experience, contrary to whatever Coach Sylvester says."

Sitting behind Puck, Tina added, "You mean people are still listening to the person who tried to fire cheerleaders out of a cannon? Literally?" The girl had a point. If Coach Sylvester had her way, Santana's cantaloupe implants would've been the only thing saving her from an epic face plant on live television.

"Oh but she made it up to us," said Brittany, reaching into her homemade Lord Tubbington backpack. "Coach gave me this." She held up a small rag doll that sported a tiny black vest, crudely-cut tan slacks, and styled curly hair. Three long needles were lodged on its face.

"That's not creepy at all," someone in the room muttered.

"Brittany, remember our talk about not making Mr. Schue uncomfortable unless he pisses us off?" whispered Santana, carefully taking the doll and putting it into her gym bag.

The doll had done its job though. " Meeting dismissed," Mr. Schue said quickly, his eyes on the tiled floor. Once outside the classroom, the club wordlessly broke off into pairs.

Rachel and Puck were to patrol the edges of McKinley and the surrounding suburbs. Mercedes and Finn were off to patrol the parks scattered across town. Santana wheeled Artie towards Sam. "Take care of Barbara Gordon for me," she said before walking off with Brittany. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Picture me singing 'Remember My Forgotten Man,'" said Rachel as the pair walked by Finn's house. " The American flag flowing behind me and Finn dressed as Captain America."

Before the iPad and Justin Bieber, Puck would've upped and left Rachel the moment she said "singing". The girl, normally a solid 7.8 in the Puckasaurus scale, dropped to 3 once she opened her mouth. 

Thankfully, Puck punched things a lot more often now.

Hearing Rachel rant about how she would slaughter any show choir that sang pre-1930's tunes at sectionals (her words) was better than the alternative, the screams of an innocent. Besides, having Rachel in a positive mood would make it easier for Puck to drop the bomb on her.

"How much would it cost to hire a pyrotechnician?" Rachel continued despite Puck's lack of interest. "Wait, before you look it up, I think the show choir rule book states that performers can only use props without hired assistance."

"That sucks."

"Maybe if I act fast enough, I can apprentice under a seasoned technician-"

"You totally could."

"-I mean, really, how long does it take to learn how to handle explosives? It's not exactly rocket science."

"Sounds easy."

"Wait, a license might be necessary. No matter. My cousin Joseph can forg- "

"That's great, babe," said Puck, raising a finger to Rachel's lips. "Shut up for a sec 'cuz we're here."

The pair stopped in front of a white house with a large lawn, its viridian blades unnaturally even and stiff. It was the house Kurt had singled out before jumping out of Puck's truck. Although it was highly unlikely that a vampire would give away his hangout, in Puckerman's book, it was worth a try.

"Rach, you know you're the best singer in the club right?" Rachel nodded in agreement. "And you could probably kick my ass if you wanted. At any time. At any place." Rachel eyes visibly agreed. "Promise me you won't ever do that."

"Puck, what's this about?" Rachel asked, pushing his finger away as he tried to cover her mouth again. The pair remained quiet, their eyes trained on one another in a timely game of The Truth Blows And Here's Why.

"I might've given a hitchhiking vampire a ride to town last night. To this house actually."

If God was a chick it would've been Rachel because Puck couldn't picture anyone more likely to overpower him with a single word. "WHAT?"

"I said 'might've.' There's a big differen-"

The force of Rachel's one-handed push sent him stumbling. "No, Puck. You don't get to weasel out of something like this," she said in a strained tone, eyes darting between him and the house. "How did a vampire trick you into driving into Lima? Was it hypnosis? Oh I would bet my voice on hypno--"

Rachel exhaled loudly, the gesture adding a few years to her small face. One would be led to believe that Rachel lived to outshine anyone in anything. Math. Singing. Owning the most animal print sweaters in school. Slaying was a different subject.

Behind Quinn, Rachel was grace incarnate while wielding a weapon. Her punches packed muscle that Puck trained night and day to add to his frame. She was the one who found the Vampyr book, explaining the chilling dreams that woke them up at night. When everyone had accepted the truth about the supernatural, Rachel took on the load without a second thought.

Organizing patrols according to skills and strengths, she kept track of suspicious activity reported in the news while the rest of the group dated and generally made-out with each other. Rachel introduced Artie to Demonology and sent Tina to her first coven meeting. Under her guidance, their little group of freaked out drama queens had transformed into a well-rounded group of knife wielding, donkey kicking slayers. The only casualty in the journey, besides Quinn, had been her relationship with Finn, a subject Rachel avoided talking at all times.

She's like a Jewish Nick Fury, Puck often thought.

The repercussions of Pucks little hitchhiker were obvious to Rachel. "I hope you don't take the push personally," Rachel said. He understood. "Let it go, Rach."

Her mouth momentarily opened and closed. "That explains why Tina didn't sense a vampire enter Lima. A few weeks ago," Rachel began, "Tina managed to design a spell that imitates the natural protection charms most inhabited homes develop." Puck hated those words and his scrunched face showed it.

"The magiks are going to bite you in the tuchus one day ," Rachel said with an eye roll. "When a house or apartment becomes a home to someone, natural magic becomes woven into the very structure. Vampires and demons looking to grab an at-home-snack are repelled by the magic unless invited inside by the occupants."

The Puck's stayed quiet as his eyebrows slowly traveled up to his narrow hairline. "Last week Tina managed to cast the charm on Lima."

The news were little short of overwhelming to Puck and for a moment he felt a hint of panic. "You mean we're never going to see-"

"I wish," Rachel interrupted, "Tina is powerful but magic weakens when spread out, even at her level." Her gaze returned to the ever creepy home. "Demons and vampires entering the town will only feel a slight push before going about their business. But Tina will feel their presence and she will alert us." A beat of silence followed until Rachel said, "We were going to announce the good news to the group tomorrow."

"God," was all Puck could utter as the disappointment choked him. "I screwed Tina's magic whammy." Rachel's silence couldn't have been more damning.

Unable to stand still anymore, Puck drew out a silver stake from his sleeve. Captain Fuck Up. He felt the stake in his grasp begin to bend.

"I know you didn't mean it Puck," Rachel said, a sickle ready in one hand, the other balled into a fist. Just like Nick Fury. "But if you hadn't invited it, Tina would've felt it cross the barrier. Lives wouldn't be in danger."

For a few months, the town of Lima was vampire-free for the first time in its existence. Thanks to a truck and some seriously confusing feelings on Puck's behalf, the little peace the group had worked hard to create was about to disappear.

Puck wished being a Slayer came with a self-destruct button.


End file.
